.....
I wake up around 10 a.m., as does Lydia. Ja'Rado and Emeric had already woken up for an hour and had taken down their side of camp, and had extra time, so they made us breakfast. After we get dressed and take down camp, we all spend the day hiking back down the mountain.
Apparently going down the mountain is dozens of times easier than climbing up, because we manage to make it down to Ivarstead within the next 10 hours. The evening looked incredible, as the moons of Nirn swung around to full light, shining brightly on the world. The stars themselves were beautiful as well, shining a whitish-red hue, or a blue-green, depending on where you looked. Nebulae of all kinds float amongst the stars and I think back to the events of today.
During the whole of the ten hours we took to get back down the mountain, Ja'Rado and Emeric argued back and forth about various topics ranging from what race the Hero of Kvatch might've been, to whether the Thalmor should even be taken seriously half the time, to the differences, if there are any, between Honningbrew or Black-Briar meads. They also talked about how they felt about the generic flowers here on the mountains.
The developers weren't feelin' it when they named the mountain flowers here "mountain flowers". Literally, that's the name of the flowers. There're four different varieties of them, too: red, blue, yellow, and purple. They all have different effects, but there's not so much of a difference in their appearance that it's necessary to name them different things. It just feels... low-effort on the, (Ja'Rado referred to the gods when he said this), gods' part to make them like that, so Ja'Rado says. And nobody thought to name them in all these thousands of years? Very disappointing, to say the least.
I didn't really care about the issue at the time, but once they mentioned it, it became pretty prevalent. It's pretty low of the developers to just toss these out there without a name. I mean, by the time I got put into this world, Skyrim's on like, it's fourteenth year of having been released. That's pretty crazy, now that I think about it.
I've loved this game for fourteen years?! That's really crazy, because I would honestly say that this game isn't worth loving for fourteen years. Ten to twelve, at the max, but since Elder Scrolls 6 still was never released by Bethesda, I guess it just... kept going. The mods, the dlc's. Todd Howard, the director of Bethesda, just kept rereleasing Skyrim with more dlc's attached, just like the memes have said for years. We didn't believe them, and look where we are now. Or rather, where I am now.
Speaking of where I am, I'm currently sitting on one of the chairs in the room Lydia and I got from the innkeep at Vilemyr Inn, the inn at Ivarstead. Apparently, when we first got here we didn't look around well enough to find it. Unlike Riverwood, Ivarstead was not nearly as laden with refugees from the war. Given that it's at the foothills of a mountain, I'm not terribly surprised. I forget it exists half the time myself.
Besides that, we restocked our supplies, especially food and water, and took note of things we have yet to do, or rather, I did.
Which brings me to my next point, of saying that an owl had flown to Ivarstead and had been poking my window for a few minutes after it saw me enter this room. Yesterday I let it in, and it had a letter attached to it's leg that told me to wait a few seconds after reading it. The letter burnt up in my hands, and I stared at the owl, expecting something to happen.
Soon after, the owl did some voodoo shit: glowing with a dark blue light out of it's eyes, and like *unfolded* itself (it was weird, bro), and turned into a woman, or like, a magical hologram of one (I poked it, to see if what was real, but it was a prerecorded message), and told me the long version of it's story before turning back into an owl and flying away.
Basically, the witches of Glenumbra want me to hunt down some hagravens in specific places: two living in the salt marshes of Hjaalmarch, (where Morthal is), three in the sulfur fields and volcanic tundra in southern Eastmarch, (to the north of Riften), and one in the Reach, (where Markarth is).
Hagravens are these ugly types of witches that have accepted the use of some really dark magic that altered their bodies in exchange for power. They typically have scraggly black or grey hair, hooked noses, pure black eyes, extremely pale skin, and long bony limbs. They have four long, clawed fingers on each hand and foot, and walk with a hunchback. Their skin droops with age and black raven feathers grow out of their wrists and shins. They're also venerated by the Reachmen, the aboriginal people of the Reach.
I'm apprehensive about hagravens, given their love of fireballs, which I like, but only when I'm the one casting them.
In any case, I'd been practicing my magic for roughly an hour now while looking at my Journal. My skill with Sparks is more developed now, as I can create low-amperage flows of electricity. Not nearly enough to kill, but enough for... other purposes.
On that magical note, I've also manage to learn how to... well... *swell* my magicka, temporarily increasing the duration of my spells by thinning the quality of the Magicka. The power, range, and defense of my spells decrease, but I'm able to cast spells like Flames or Sparks for much longer. This was how I learned to drop amps for Sparks.
Feeling the drop in Sparks after swelling my magicka led to my understanding of how the loss in voltage can affect the amps, and thus the power. My Sparks usually are strong enough to electrocute someone and cause some damage. It can maim people, so far, but not kill.
But now, they're weak enough that they might cause a bright flash and surprise people, but not actually cause any damage. A good party trick, you might call it. Or, if I focus on other aspects of it, I can cause the feeling of electricity, that tingly sort of feeling, to run through your body at certain points.
I'm boutta be even better in bed. The thought of that makes me smile, but given that it's getting pretty late, it turns into a yawn.
Having eaten a dinner of beef stew already and cleaned up myself, I head off to bed, where Lydia awaits. She's already asleep, so all I do is tuck myself in beside her under the covers, and shut my eyes.
15 minutes go by, spent trying to fall asleep, before I finally realize that it's not looking like I'm going to fall asleep just yet, despite my state of exhaustion.
My arms are folded up under my head, and I face up to the ceiling, an imperfect wooden roof with holes in between every other plank of wood in it.
I sigh, realizing that I still haven't told Lydia how I feel about her yet, despite her request for me to tell her as soon as possible. Honestly, I really appreciate her, and our relationship, (sexual or otherwise), means a lot to me, I just think... It's probably not a good idea to have a relationship right now, given the state of the world. If I'm to have a significant other, I don't want her to be in any more danger than she has to be, and I don't want her to be encouraged to put herself in unnecessary danger.
I get that my s.o. might feel that it's not fair for me to put myself into danger recklessly if she can't herself, but ultimately it's going to happen anyways. I'm the Dragonborn, first and foremost, and I'm a Thane, secondly. Being a Thane makes me a high-level target for people, and being the Dragonborn marks me as the biggest enemy the dragons have up to face.
Besides those, having a loved one and being rich is not the best combination for the future, and with what I have planned, 'rich' is an understatement.
In any case, here at Ivarstead I'll need to make a decision. Where do we go next?
I have two major options. First, I can head to Riften directly. There, I can get started on my plans, those being: the assassination for Grelod the 'Kind' that leads to the Dark Brotherhood making me join their ranks, the adoption of Lucia, which I'm still not totally sure I should do (making Lucia into a possible target for kidnapping), and the introduction to the Thieve's Guild, which I'll need. Alongside this, I should be able to have Mjoll the Lioness, a powerful warrior with a penchant for making fun of her victims join me as well.
Before I get to that, though, I'll have to find Grimsever, Mjoll's sword that's been lost inside a Dwarven ruin. I roughly know where the ruin is, I'm just a little worried about the Dwarven Centurion guarding it.
The Dwarven Centurion is a massive Dwarven automaton that stands about a dozen feet tall, has a hammer for a right hand and an axe for the left. It's massive hulking frame is made entirely from a powerful Dwarven alloy that scholars and smiths even today know very little about, thus the reason it's simply referred to as "Dwarven metal". This mechanical monstrosity also has the metallurgic moxie to exhale steam through a vent in it's mouth as a weapon. The thing is, the steam is supposedly so hot, it can nearly melt your skin off.
My second option is to return back the way we came, back to Whiterun. I can restock there, but besides that, a lot of quests will have opened up now that I've got this 'Training with the Greybeards' bit out of the way, so I can start traveling more and getting the things I need. After starting those quests, I could eventually make my way back down from Whiterun to Falkreath, and get the land he'll offer me, in exchange for some help with a vampire problem.
Vampires...? The Dawnguard. I should go there after I finish up in Riften. They're in the same area, so it works out perfectly. Looking at both of those facts, it's looking more like I should head to Riften directly.
'So my next target should be heading to Riften.' - My last thought before falling into a drowsy haze, then off to sleep.
...
The golden light of dawn breaks through the roof and rafters of the room I rented, and blinds me until I wake up, not exactly eager to greet the new day. I sit up, and see the empty space where Lydia was. She's probably in the dining room, eating breakfast.
I head to the dining room of the inn, just outside of the room's doors. One massive rectangular hearth dominates the center of the room, the body of a sheep cooking on a spit above it. The heat emanates from the fire with a blistering air. The large wooden tables people sit at are next to the walls of the room.
I spot Lydia sitting across from Emeric, who's facing me, his back against the wall. Ja'Rado lays on the floor at Emeric's feet, occasionally lifting his head and opening his mouth for Emeric to toss some meat or eggs inside, (almost like a dog, actually, but I keep that thought to myself). The innkeep, Wilhelm, begrudgingly let Ja come in when we convinced him that Ja wasn't a sabre cat and that, no, he wouldn't bite anyone needlessly. In fact, Wilhelm almost pissed his pants when Ja told him that himself.
Speaking of Wilhelm, he looks to Ja from time to time with a curious and wary eye, just in case he did, or is looking like he will, bite (or eat) someone. Wilhelm grunts a greeting as I walk by, while cleaning parts of the bar of the counter.
I nod in return and make my way over to Lydia. She doesn't hear, nor sees me coming - not that she could, anyways - so I raise my finger to my lips, signalling Emeric and Ja to keep quiet about my arrival. They see me and understand immediately, Emeric continuing talking and thus occupying Lydia's attention.
Other patrons point me out amongst the people there and get ever so slightly more boisterous and cover up my approach in volume. I slowly walk up behind her and crouch down, before pouncing.
"Boo!" I scare her. My arms reach to wrap around her, but not before she jumps up, twisting around in a smooth motion, and elbowing me in the nose.
My head snaps back, and I lose my balance, falling backwards on the floor. Immediately Lydia realizes what she did and drops to her knees helping me up. Her hands fly over her mouth and she apologizes a lot.
I get up, my ego, honor, and relatively happy mood bruised. The patrons laughed gleefully when they watched me fall getting hit instead of Lydia getting scared, a plot twist worthy of M. Night Shyamalan.
"Oh, Shor, I'm so sorry! Had I realized it was you, I would never have done that!" She drops to a knee, bows her head, and slams a closed right fist over her heart. "My Thane, please forgive me!"
Her attitude of a Housecarl rather than a lover shoes once again, but yhe second she says that, the voices and tone of the patrons grow both worried and impressed.
"Did you hear that?"
"Crazy, you heard it, too?"
"She just called him Thane, right?"
"My ears must be failing me. A new Thane? One of those haven't been announced since... well... for a long time now."
One spoke up to us, louder than rest, with a pointed look of confusion. It was the man from a few days ago who compared our probable fighting capacity to a bears'. He stands up from his seat on a table, and nods his head at us.
"Oi, mate! 'id she just call you Thane?"
"Yes, she did. I bear the title of Thane, after all, and am a Thane of Whiterun."
His face switches to that of incredulity, and speaks with doubt in his voice.
"Prove it. Aren't you supposed to carry a weapon showing your rank or something?"
I unsheathe my ebony blade, and it emits an audible gasp from my apparent audience. It shines in the light with a black, beautiful light.
"Incredible!" They gasp.
"Ebony... A sight I'd never think to see again in my life." An older man walks forward and gestures to see the sword.
I allow him to touch it, and he gasps out in a raspy voice.
"Tis true ebony! I haven't seen this for... Decades, at the least! And oh, but this blade is old. Older than you or even me, and powerful, too. You might have earned the right to carry it, but are you sure you have the strength to wield this?" He asks me.
This was clearly a metaphorical question aimed at my strength of will. Being a Thane meant not only was I am effective knight, but that I was also a representative of Whiterun. My actions reflect back on it, so my willpower must be at a certain level, to control both myself and my actions.
Besides that, I know I'm probably not the best with a sword nor even close to it, and thus probably don't have the right to wield it as a weapon, but I'm not able to say that and keep my humble appearance.
"Of course he does!" Emeric shouts out, apparently ignoring to whom the question was addressed. "Witches from beyond the Wrothgarian mountains have sent me to assist him in slaying hagravens, so of course, he must be strong enough to deal with those!"
"No," I whisper out, but alas, I was too late.
What Emeric said elicits gasps from the audience, as hagravens are powerful creatures, much stronger your run-of-the-mill adventurer, and far stronger than a squad of soldiers with effective combat experience. If a hagraven were to attack this town, there would be very few survivors, if any.
"Wow!" A couple kids say, running up to Lydia and I, and questions start flying out of their mouths. Lydia looks at me with a surprised look, and I glare at Emeric for a second before returning my attention to the old man in front of me, still staring at my sword.
"I'm going to have to ask you to let go of my sword now," I say, before looking at Lydia. Her arms are raised, because the kids are pulling on her armor trying to jump up to see her face better.
The old man sighs, letting go of my sword.
"Lydia, grab our things." I tell her.
I know what's going on. Y'all ain't gonna catch me lackin'. I've seen this trope before, in movies and tv shows, where someone doubts somebody's power or position of authority or whatever, and are asked to do a side quest, subverting the plot of the story temporarily just to secure that person's belief in themselves.
I don't want it, and I don't need that. For all I know, someone's gonna ask me to go retrieve their old helmet from their soldiering days from a cave filled with ice trolls, (looking at you, Noster). I swear to God if that happens to me right now...
Nah, Imma just head out.
She nods, and rushes back to our room. I hear rustling from our room, and she comes bursting out holding our backpacks, right before a guard who was standing by the door starts walking to me.
Oh, no. Aw hell no.
"You all saw the proof, and got what you wanted to know." I assertively state, swinging my sword back in it's sheath, and my backpack on.
"No, I know what you're gonna say." I point at the guard before he can open his mouth. "You're gonna want me to go investigate some shit, and I ain't doing that. I already got shit to do. Lydia, ready the horses."
"Already done." She says, understanding my tone.
Emeric understands what's going on, and sneaks out with Ja, letting me take the spotlight. With most of the attention of the room already on me, that's easy enough for him to do.
I nod my head up to her, pointing with my face at the door, and she gets out of here, as well. I'm the last to leave, keeping a pointed look at the guard, and soon as I get out of the doorway run to my horse, stabled nearby.
I immediately get on Myr, and jam my heels into his sides, shouting "Yah!"
Lydia follows, with Emeric on Ja at her heels, keeping pace.
I guide us to the north entrance to Ivarstead and out of there, following the road where it turns to the east, to Riften.
• • •
The guard, a man by the name of Johann, felt mortified.
The Thane of Whiterun; a tall, cool looking Nord, strapped in the steel armor of an adventurer, wielding an ebony sword. He very clearly was not like the more business-minded Thanes that only took their role with money. That Thane just accused Johann of looking to recruit him for a mission of some kind.
Johann looks down, before sitting at a table, and explaining how he felt to the old man that looked at the Thane's sword. All he wanted was to ask the Thane if he could share a tale about one of his adventures. Guards have a duty as protectors, but they're people, too. Not much has happened recently in town, and a new bedtime story to tell his kids about would do some good. Especially for Johann's own sanity. 'Not much action' doesn't even begin to describe the monotony of Johann's life, and Johann does *not* want to get rusty, both with making up stories, and with his job.
Imagining new battle scenarios would lead to possible inspiration for Johann's swordplay, which was mediocre in Johann's opinion.
And instead of letting him ask, the Thane ran away from the situation. He wasn't scared in the slightest of having to do work, clearly, he just thought it was annoying.
A single tear drops from his eye before he downs a mug of mead, killing his mood. He sighs a happy breath out. A good five to ten minutes pass, in a blissful alcoholic dream.
Suddenly, another member of the town's guard bursts through the doors. Johann recognizes him.
It's Bjorn, a younger member of the guard.
"Ha! Ha! He-!" He gasps out, barely able to speak.
Johann jumps out of the table and runs over, lifting him up, and sitting him on one of the tables' benches.
Bjorn finally breathes deeply, tears running down my eyes. He shakes his head, grasping at it. "Help! Trolls! Two of them! Six guards, dead! Jon, Mitch, Will, Vick... They're all dead!"
"Shite... That Thane just left, too. Right when we could use him." Johann looks up, to the ceiling, before shaking his head as well. Jon, Mitch, Will, and Vick were all good friends of Johann. Mitch was the captain of the town guard. If he saw that his squad was in a bad situation, he'd try to save as many as possible. 'As many' just happened to be only one of them in this case.
"I'll need more information," Johann asks Bjorn.
He nods, dejectedly and terrified. 'It looks like the reality of the situation is hitting him... Let's hope he keeps his head on straight.' Johann thinks.
Bjorn starts off slowly. "So..., we were walking 'round the town on patrol, like usual, when we came up on the trolls. We didn't realize what they were at first, so we poked the bushes. Thought it was a rabbit or hare or somethin' small, caught in a poacher's trap. That's when the first troll killed Will. It jumped out, swiped his head clean off. Helmet 'n all." Bjorn mimed a whacking motion with his hand.
"There was so much blood... So much, the orange leaves turned red. The dirt went red, too. So much blood..." Bjorn's teeth starts chattering, and he sways from side to side. He shivers.
"Stay focused. Tell me more." Johann commands him. It's his job, now that Mitch was dead. It now fell to him to lead the guard.
"Right... Once Mitch saw that Will was dead, he told me to run and get help, since I'm the youngest and had 'The most spry legs, he said', and that they'd try to survive till I got help. But that was right before Vick died. Another troll came out from behind us, and killed 'im with a swipe to the back. Tore through his armor clean. Chainmail don't do shite to stopping troll claws. Then it was just Jon and Mitch. That was the last thing I saw before I was able to get away."
Bjorn continues, his look changing to that of worry. "But that was a few minutes ago. I don't think they're gonna survive for long. I gotta go back. I gotta try and save 'em. I gotta."
The inn was filled with silence. Two trolls? That's far more dangerous than that bandit crew from a few months ago!
Johann sighs, shutting his eyes, opening himself to thought. 'So Mitch and Jon aren't dead just yet. We're going to need help killing those trolls. Our best option is to get that Thane's help, along with the rest of the guards'. Even if he doesn't want to help.'
"Right... Somebody send for a couple runners. Find that Thane. He went north. The road splits to the east and west, so we'll need at least two runners. We'll need him the most, if what that Breton said earlier is true. Someone strong enough to fight hagravens... Hopefully, he's strong enough to fight trolls, too."
As soon as Johann finishes giving orders, another guard that was in the building ran out, following his command.
'Let's just hope the Thane is able to get here in time.' Johann is wary of the situation.
Monsters like trolls are born with an incredible strength, and an incredible health regeneration speed, both of which are horrible to fight against, but with an enemy who has both...
This fight will be long, and men will die. That much is obvious. The only question is how many bodies will be stacked.
This town has just under about 200 people. The town guard consists of around four dozen people. About half of that is the amount of people on-duty at a time, switching out one person per week. From that, the town guard is split into squads of five, consisting of about five people each.
The first squad consists of the strongest and most experienced people in guard, while Johann, the commander of second squad, was the second most experienced, and so on.
The first squad tends to take on the biggest and most dangerous threats to the town, while also taking in new members of the guard to train them. This method gets the new members experience quickly, and lets the older members ensure that the newer members get experience, as well. Of course, those new members occasionally die on their first or second mission, but they're commonly ordered to move back far enough that they're not a target, but close enough that they can watch and get experience.
The usual targets that the guard have to face are bandits and highwaymen trying to make a profit off of the travelers. Monsters like trolls normally only appear once in a blue moon, and even then, it's one at a time. A challenge, to be sure, but a survivable one. One that even the youngest of members can attempt to assist with.
Surrounding trolls, slowly squeezing in, and poking at them with spears until they die is the most common method of the town guard in dealing with them. However, if a troll is given the chance to break a spear, things get... Difficult, but not impossible. Swords will be drawn and shields will be swung around to defend from attacks. Ultimately, it will die if enough holes are in it, no matter it's regeneration.
That summarizes the town guards' method of how to hunt a troll, but two? The risk of either group breaking down at the wrong time is too high, thus the need for the Thane's help.
'In any case, what the guard needs to do now is to prepare to hunt those down.'
Johann exits the inn and heads to the palisade, under which are the town guards' effective barracks. It's no more than a small armory beside a few beds, but that's all they could muster given the size of the town and it's economic status.
It didn't help that a lot of people believe that the Nordic Barrow near the town was haunted by draugr, a likely cause for some of the strange happenings around town. Because of those fears, a lot of people have been moving away from town and set up house and shop in other places, especially Riften.
Johann heads over to the set of beds, where some of the other squads on-duty were resting. He wakes them all up and addresses them, standing on a podium.
He looks over the crew of ten men, and takes a grim, deep breath.
"We've got trolls in the town's vicinity, and two of our men have already been killed. That number might be higher, but we're running low on time. Get ready as soon as possible. We'll be heading out to survey the area in fifteen minutes. The attack on the trolls will begin as soon as reinforcements arrive."
"Reinforcements?" One of the other guard squad commander, a Breton man named Mark, asks. "Who are they? Last I checked, we're the last of the town guard. The other half were ordered to Riften 'cause of their new problems with smugglers, or some shite like that."
'Damn. He's right. They were, weren't they.' Johann curses under his breath. He had forgotten about the other guards' absence because of the suddenness of the situation with Bjorn.
Johann expands a bit on their reinforcements. "We've got a strong 'un comin' in, hopefully. A Thane of Whiterun. S'posedly strong enough to fight hagravens."
Hearing that, the guards let out a gasp of relief. The tensions in the room have been rising since Johann started speaking.
The rest of the guards quickly put on their armor, and get their weapons ready, but Mark pulls Johann to the side and out of earshot from the rest of the guards.
"Wait..., hopefully?" Mark asks, his face knotted in a frown. "You mean he's not confirmed to be coming to help us?"
Johann sighs, and puts his head down.
"No, we're trying to rely on his goodwill, but from what happened earlier..." Johann says, standing back up right. "I don't know if he will."
"Well, what happened earlier? It can't be that bad..."
"Joe said-" Johann starts.
"Joe? Sleepy Joe, or the one that works at the mill?" Mark interrupts.
Johann's confused. "The one that works at the mill. Why's it matter?"
"Right, it doesn't. Sorry for interrupting."
"Anyways, we were at the inn when we heard a woman refer to an adventurous lookin' man as a Thane. Joe didn't believe that the fellow was a Thane, so he asked to see proof. The Thane pulled out his sword, a beautiful ebony piece, and *Sleepy Joe* confirmed it to be a real piece. A bit after that, I was walking up to the man, when he suddenly glared at me, and said something like 'I know what you're gonna say, and you're going to want me to help go investigate some shite. I've things to do, and you can't stop me.'
"Now, I wasn't actually going to ask him to do something for us, I just wanted to hear one of his stories. Man's like that probably got many Jordy 'n Jim might like."
"In any case, I digress. He thought we were going to ask him to do a quest or something. Now, we actually need him for something," Johann shook his head. "Let's just hope he's got a conscience."
"Just our luck. It is what it is." Mark answers.
"And it is what we make of it." Johann nods to him.
Mark nods, and heads to his bunk, where his chest sits at the foot of the bed. He gets ready for battle himself, pulling on armor slightly different from the others. It was demarcated with certain designs on the gambeson he wore, along with a style of open-face helm that only had a nasal covering.
Johann's own armor was similar to it, the only difference being that Johann had a cape that extends down to the small of his back, signifying his rank.
Johann picks up a mug of mead that was sitting on a table.
He stirs the dark golden-brown liquid around with his finger a bit before chugging it. He sets it down on the table, empty, and readies his own weapon, a proper Skyforge steel axe, one that cost a lot of gold to buy. He then grabs a few of the oval-headed spears from a weapons rack, spears normally used to hunt boar and, on occasion, bears, equipping them to the side of a small pack he carries over his shoulder.
"Talos preserve us, and help us defeat these monstrosities." Johann whispers out a prayer, right before he heads out to where the rest of his crew was and walks to a rendezvous site, led by Bjorn.
• • •
I'm sitting at my new campsite, heating up a lunch of skeever over a fire, with a simple potato and garlic soup beside it, ready to be boiled into a broth.
We'd been riding for a few minutes at a high pace, when we found them wandering the forests, and we decided meat was good, regardless of what animal it came from, so we killed them.
We had to cook them here since we didn't have any salt to dry them with, or rather, I had to. The others set up camp while I set up the fire and started cooking it.
Currently, however, the others are sitting around me talking, in what sounds like a fun conversation.
'Man I wish I could join...' I internally groan at the situation, but the smell of cooking fat makes me smile. At least I can ensure good meat will be made.
Although.., I feel like the delicious scent of cooking meat, or just flesh in general, might draw the attention of predators in the area - I've seen survival-themed tv shows where that scenario tends to occur. I can only hope that doesn't happen now.
• • •
The path Bjorn was leading Johann and his band of guards curled through the wood, twisting and turning, until it brought them back to the main road travelling north where they continued for a few minutes.
A sinking feeling appears in Johann's gut as he realized he forgot to ask a very important question. One that might put them all into danger.
"Oi, Bjorn!" He calls ahead to the young man leading their charge.
"Y-yea?"
Johann's pale look of slight fear, coupled with the tense atmosphere, made Bjorn nervous.
"I should've asked this first, but... Where was the troll attack?"
"Hmm?" Bjorn asks, his anxiety fading. "I thought I said it earlier... It was up the road, to the northeast."
Johann's face only tightened at the information, and he starts to sweat despite the mildly cool air.
"Right. I'm taking charge. Tell us if we're going the wrong way." Johann commands, his tone sharp.
Bjorn nods, stepping back, and lets Johann into the lead position. He doesn't know what's going on, but if Johann's afraid, it definitely can't be good.
Eventually, they make it to a crossroads, stopping for a second so Johann could give commands.
"We're going to split up. Half of us east, the other west. Those trolls aren't far off from here. If you spot, hear, or feel that anything's off, shout for help, as hard and as loud as possible. None of us can take on a troll alone, so don't get cocky or arrogant. Any questions?"
One of the guards raises his hand, and Johann points to him.
"Yeah?"
The guard looks pale. "Ah, uh... Do... Do you hear that? It sounds like someone's shouting from far off."
Johann frowns. "Which side?"
"W-west." The guard stutters out.
Johann listens for a second, trying to hear over the sounds of the forest and his guards, until he barely hears something.
"Quiet down!" He barks out. Even the forest itself seem to quiet down at his command, too, when he said that.
They shut up for a few seconds, and Johann can hear a runner yelling, approaching from the western side.
"It's... the... -st!! Behind-!"
"What was that?" Johann asks his men, who can barely see the runner, let alone hear them, and the guard from before answers.
"I think they said, 'It's to the east! Behind you!'"
Johann nods, then the pieces click.
"Check flanks!" He shouts, before drawing out a spear.
The group of guards circle up, but not before one of their own go flying up to the sky.
More than 15 feet he flew, straight up, before falling into an aspen tree's branches and hanging there, alive, but in dire need of healing.
Cries of "Troll!" echo throughout the area as people unsheathe spears and raise guards up. They back up from the three-eyed ape-like monster and jab their spears at it from a distance.
The troll beats it's chest as though it were a gorilla, and slaps the ground excitedly, while growling and snorting out hostile noises. It's eyes glow an unholy obsidian, marked with light spots of white.
Fear controls the group as they stare dumbly at the beast, but for far too long, and three more people go flying before a proper circle around it is established.
The group ensures that they keep a certain distance away from the troll via their spears, and with more than a dozen of them poking at it's back and sides, the troll spins around, knowing that as it had managed to get itself surrounded, it's fate was pretty much sealed.
But now... 'That's one troll. Where's the other?'
Johann orders them to kill it, and they begin to enclose the circle, forcing the troll to get stabbed and suffer until it dies. In the meantime, Johann keeps an eye out for the other troll.
Johann, having decided that enough was enough, goes to kill the troll himself, and finishes it off with a few quick stabs to it's three hearts.
Trolls have somewhat of a scientific reasoning for their excessively strong regeneration, being that they have three hearts. Two are in their chest, and are sometimes mistaken for one because of how close they are together, and is where novice adventurers can easily mistake it's near-death state as completely dead, only for it to rise up as they're walking away and swipe their heads off. Their third, however, is in their skull, behind their eyes and brain.
Trolls have evolved to sacrifice the size of it's brain in exchange for it's much higher capacity to regenerate it's body at an incredible rate. Their smaller capacity for intelligence has, of course, limited their learning, understanding, and developmental skills as a result, and thus if they're ever tamed, can only remain so for a limited amount of time, then they must be tamed again, (or killed). This fact does not stop mages or laborers from training, taming, and putting to work trolls as a way to earn a profit.
However... Johann feels like something about all this feels disgustingly off. Something big.
'it could be the troll...' Johann thought.
Trolls had a horrid stench; a composition of blood, corpses, and weeks-old refuse. Trolls had the unfortunate fate of two stomachs as well as their three hearts. Trolls' regeneration speed causes an extremely high body temperature which, combined with their digestion speed, made it unfortunate to be near them, especially just after they ate.
While a troll's diet mainly consists of fleshy and meaty things like scavenged corpses, people, animals, and lesser monsters, they also ate plants like mushrooms, ferns, and the like. So their shit sticks to their ass, and they unfortunately don't wash often, leading to the obvious.
Johann crinkles his nose and turns away from the corpse.
"Look around for the other one!" He shouts, waving his hand above his head, gesturing for them to survey the area.
• • •
Oh, no...
I was wrong. No, even worse than wrong.
This meat is much better than I imagined it'd be. One might even call this meat 'succulent'. I'd never expect this from a rat, but it's muscles and fat blended marvelously to form a singular taste.
"Food's ready!" I call out, and I'm swarmed by the three as they come to get some food.
A few minutes later, everybody but Ja'Rado is full, sitting in a circle around the fire.
"... And that's why we're not allowed to wear wide-brimmed hats during the festivals in Neutonn!" Emeric finishes a funny story.
I laugh, and repeat his words, not entirely having caught the whole thing, just the beginning and parts that were very memorable.
"So let me get this right... You couldn't buy a normal hat, so you wore a wide-brimmed one made of a tortilla shell? And not only that, but because of 'cost-benefits', you chose to pour the sauce for it *inside* the hat itself. Then, when you were called up to the stage as the one with the 'hat Sheogorath would most definitely love', you bent over and the sauce ended up falling out onto the floor?"
Emeric takes over summarizing his story.
"Yes, and as I said earlier, the sauce ended up being extremely combustible, so when one of the torchbearers slipped on it as they followed us off the stage, they happened to drop their torch onto the sauce, and 'Fwoof' it went! The biggest problem was, if you remember,..."
"The sauce was on their only carpet," We all chorused, having enjoyed this part of the story well enough.
"And, like I said before, it burst into flames, and unfortunately they had wreaths hanging from posts scattered all around, stretching all the way from the top of the posts to the floor. The worst part was, those wreaths were oiled only days earlier to prevent them from rotting too quickly... Which made them catch fire all the faster, which led to it lighting buildings on fire as well.
"The town had financial problems, being that it had just finished being built, so everything only got worse after that. Of course, the townspeople were pretty angry at us for burning their town down at first, but after we said we'd assist in the clean-up, they let us go a few days later with no issues. And that was how they required us to promise that we wouldn't wear any wide-brimmed hats during their festivals should we ever come back. One of the few things I'm grateful for now is that those houses were made out of bricks rather than wood, as the villages here are."
After Emeric finishes that sentence, he takes a deep breath, having expended all the air he had in one long breath. He then turns his head to the side, and looks me strangely.
"Speaking of burning villages, news travels quickly despite the distance. Through a combination of scrying, and listening to spirits, and some other combination of magical intervening, word about dragons returning had reached Glenumbra just before I was sent here, and the witches think *you* had something to do with it. So. Did you?"
"Uh...-" I don't know how to respond... How should I respond? After all, I both do, and don't, have something to do with why Alduin attacked Helgen.
Alduin was sent forward in time from the past at the peak of the Throat of the World. After he returned, he immediately began his reviving the dead dragons and bringing his dead back to life.
The most widely supported theory given by fans was that Alduin flew down from the Throat of the World and attacked Helgen because he can sense the Last Dragonborn's presence, because they're literally tied by fate. That is supposedly why he didn't attack Ivarstead, despite it being much closer.
It'd make a lot of sense, but there hasn't been any confirmation of that, yet, so there's no point in assuming that is the truth right now.
In any case, I need to come up with something.
"Um..." I begin. "That's... I think it originally came from a prophecy read from an Elder Scroll. The prophecy is recorded in the Book of the Dragonborn, a fairly common book here in Skyrim. Just about everyone that can read has probably read it before. Anyways, the prophecy it details speaks of a hero, the Last Dragonborn."
"Yes!" Emeric exclaims, smiling. "Finally! So. Did those old guys, the Greybeards or whatever, finally tell you what it actually means?"
I tilt my head. I know how the Dragonborn came to be, at least, according the Book, but I wouldn't call the information absolute. There's an unfortunate amount of realism in the tenuous connections of, and in, the lore of Tamriel. That is to say, a lot of information given contradicts other information given, and because there's no true Historical Society, or anything of the sort, we can't be actually sure of just about anything in the Elder Scrolls game series.
"Well, to start, to be Dragonborn is to be blessed by Akatosh. He made a covenant with Reman Cyrodiil in the First Era, where so long as a person of the Dragon blood, Reman's lineage, sits on the Ruby Throne and wears the Amulet of Kings, the Dragonfires will continue to burn and protect Tamriel from the forces of Mehrunes Dagon, those being the Dremora and in some part, the Mythic Dawn. Of course, when Martin Septim had become the avatar of Akatosh, he had also ended the line of the Septims and ended Dagon's encroaching invasion forever, or so it's been told, which is why the Mede Dynasty took over the Ruby Throne."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on!" Emeric's clearly been overloaded with information. He raises his hands in confusion. "There're things we got to talk about there, huh? Dragonfires? Amulet of Kings? Mythic Dawn? Pick a point and start with that, alright? Slow down!"
I laugh softly, and explain more. "I'll start with Mehrunes Dagon and his cult, the Mythic Dawn." That's where the previous game, Oblivion, started so I might as well start there, too.
"What do you know about the Mythic Dawn?" I ask him.
"That's the cult that killed Emperor Uriel Septim VII, wasn't it?" Lydia intervenes, shocking me a little.
"Yes, it was." I answer, giving an approving and surprised smile. "How'd you know?"
She smiles back. "I'm fairly well-read. Had to do something to pass the time."
Emeric smirks, and says, "Yeah, what she said. Cult that killed the Emperor."
"While the answer is correct, do you know *why* they killed the Emperor?" I challenge Lydia.
She smiles brighter. "To kill the Dragonfires and stop the protection Akatosh was giving Tamriel from Dagon."
"Right. Only a Dragonborn can wear the Amulet of Kings, and Emperor Uriel, as well as his children, were Dragonborn. With his death and Dragonfires dying out, portals all over Tamriel began appearing, and people died by the thousands. Of course, heroes rose up in response to the threat, and began to close them, but until Martin became the avatar of Akatosh and destroyed Dagon in his physical form, it was only a temporary solution."
Emeric interjects. "Wait, but you're Dragonborn, too, right? Wouldn't that mean you're of the Septim bloodline, as well? Isn't it possible that Martin was able to have a child before his becoming the avatar of Akatosh? Ah! And if you are his great-grandchild, wouldn't you be a possible contender for the Ruby Throne and have a right to be Emperor?"
I breathed in a confused hiss. This was yet another point of contention players would commonly bring up, but we weren't given a perfect answer to this either.
"Nobody knows. We'd have to get a magic specialist in tracing lineages to know for sure. And since the Amulet of Kings was destroyed, there's no perfect way to check using that either. Besides, I have neither the strength, nor the training to be Emperor, and as far as Mede is right now, he's not doing terribly. Anyways, I'd have to get the Jarls of Skyrim on my side to be even noticed on a high political level like that, and as you might notice, there's a civil war going on, so that's not going to be easy. I'll eventually have to pick a side, but I've got my own plans for dealing with that."
"And? What are they?" Lydia asks. She has some right to know, after all, being my Housecarl. I know she's not going to leave me, so there's no reason to not tell her. Emeric's... Well, I don't know a whole lot about him, but I'm pretty sure he's on my side.
"I've got some minor kinks to work out, but it's fairly simple. Step one is to become Thane of a majority of the Nine Holds. This will allow me to have high favor ability amongst the Jarls, strengthening my claim later. Step two, is to secure evidence of my strength. Most Nords won't believe my claim without accolades to my name. Dragons will only remain "unkillable" for a while, before sloughs of dragonslayers start to appear again. I'll need to kill something bigger. An ancient dragon, perhaps even a legendary one. Or maybe I'll obtain a bunch of Daedric artifacts. Those are relatively "hard" to get, so they should be satisfied with that. The third step is to secure the Jagged Crown, the crown the kings and queens of the First Era wore to display their power. It's said to contain the power of every bearer who wore it previously. Step four is to present myself at the Moot, and position myself as a contender for the High Throne. The fifth and final step, is to be voted High King. I have plans after that, but I'll need some time to dig the holes before putting the posts holding the plan up in."
"Well," Emeric starts. "That sounds-"
"Troll!! Troll!!" Someone screams, interrupting him.
------------------
Funds: 950 septims
Weapons:
💠 - Orcish Sword of Paralysis
💠 - Blade of Whiterun (Ebony longsword, 3rd Era, 10 points Frost damage/5 to Stamina/ slow)
💠 - Quicksilver Throwing Knives {x5}
💠 - Nordic Daggers {x2}
- Elven Bow, Unstrung {x12 Elven Arrows, 1x Ayleid Arrow}
- Orcish Sword
Apparel:
💠 - Refurbished Steel Helm (15% more armor)
💠 - Steel Armor (HP Regen. Injury Heal Rate 25%↑, Light Wound Heal 50%↑)
💠 - Spiked Steel Gauntlets (+20 extra H2H damage)
💠 - Refitted Steel Boots (15% more armor)
💠 - Custom Quicksilver buckler (18% more armor)
💠 - Winter Cloak (20% Cold Resistance)
💠 - Snow Bear Greatcloak (50% Cold Resistance)
- Shield of the Dragonslayer (Kite, 40% Fire Resistance)
Potions:
- Mysterious Potion {x3}
Food:
- Basket of Fruits and Vegetables; {onions x3, apples x5, leeks x2, potatoes x6, head of cabbage x3, carrots x4, loaves of bread x3}
- Salted Fish Fillets (Salmon x5, River Betty x3, Silverside Perch x4, Histcarp x3, Slaughterfish x20)
Books:
- Stack of Stormcloak notes and letters to family {x15}
- Letter to Thrynn & Torturer's Ring
- Spell Tome: Sparks
- Spell Tome: Oakflesh
Scrolls:
- Scroll of Blizzard
Supplies:
- Backpack
- Bedroll / Mountain Bedroll
- Cooking pan
- Waterskin
- Metal Bowl
- Torches {x3}
- Tent
- Pitons
- Climbing harness
- Rope (200 ft.)
- Hiking Staves {x2}
- Ice Picks {x2}
- Bar of Soap
Miscellaneous:
- Lockpicks {x1}
- Vial for Mysterious Potion
- Golden Claw
- Potion bottle remains